


qualified professional

by StormySkiesAhead



Series: lullaby for a queen in making [1]
Category: Primeval
Genre: (because she wears hats), Alternate Universe, Gen, Protagonist Helen Cutter, The Hattie Cutter AU, Timeline Cross, this one is probably going to be the only one with timeline shenanigans
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-18
Updated: 2020-02-18
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:35:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,304
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22787290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StormySkiesAhead/pseuds/StormySkiesAhead
Summary: The thing is, the anomaly's less traditional, more like an anomaly combined with a whirlpool turned on its side, or a pool of ice chips, just starting to melt, dyed blue and white.And, of course, Helen Cutter is here. And she's wearing a hat.-Or: the inauguration of the Hattie AU.
Relationships: None in this one
Series: lullaby for a queen in making [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1638238
Kudos: 1





	qualified professional

**Author's Note:**

> i had the idea... and I VIBED

Danny doesn’t think his day can get much worse-better. The sheer strangeness of today seems impossible to manage, and less than twenty-four hours ago on his own biological clock, he was fighting terror birds in the Great Rift Valley.  _ Millions of years ago _ .

Now, he’s home, and his brother is alive, and there’s yet another anomaly to be worried about. The alarm is impossibly loud, and Danny claps his hands over his ears when Jess- the new techie, it seems- scrambles to shut the volume down.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with it!” she cries, “It never acts like this-”

“I’ll take this one,” Danny says. Jess grins back brightly, and begins to rattle of coordinates, before frowning.

“Oh,” she says, “You… might want to change, first.”

Danny snorts.

“If I had time to change, I would have had time to talk to Patrick. I’ll take care of this, be back right quick. You hold down the fort, yeah?”

Jess nods.

“I’ll go with you,” Becker says, “You’ll need the help.”

Danny probably will. He notices, with astounding clarity, that Sarah’s not here, and says such as they make their way to the car. When Becker’s hands tighten around the wheel, he realizes that was probably the exact  _ wrong _ thing to say in this moment- the man practically flinches.

Danny understands. Oh, how he understands.

“Let’s just go,” Becker says, breath hitching like if he dwells for another moment on this it’ll make the man burst into tears like a river bursts its banks in a storm. His eyes scream of guilt and failure, and if they weren’t in an exceedingly awkward position for it, Danny would hug him. But the position is, indeed, awkward for a hug.

Danny weighs his options, and attempts it anyways. Becker stiffens, but returns the hug, shaking faintly.

“We still have a job to do, Danny,” he says, “We can’t forget it.”

“I know,” Danny replies, “But you look like you’re about to fall over, and I can’t exactly let that happen.”

_ “A-hem,” _ Jess bites from her side of the comms,  _ “I do believe that both of you have an anomaly to report to. Danny, what was that about being back?” _

“She’s sharp, isn’t she?” Danny asks, settling in for a short drive while Becker guns it- not as fast as Danny himself would have driven, obviously, but close enough. Becker’s the kind to follow rules. Like traffic regulations. Danny’s always seen those as guidelines, after all, but Becker treats them like actual  _ laws _ .

_ “She can hear you, you know,” _ Jess chirps in his ear. Danny laughs. He understands how Becker feels, right now, because about a third or more of his active effort is centered at the moment around not processing the fact that his brother is a) alive, b) hates him, and c) killed a not insignificant amount of people.

The anomaly, once they get to the building in question, is a strange one. It’s not the sharp, familiar shattered-glass gold, but instead softer, almost  _ blurrier, _ like sea glass instead of shattered. Danny knows that anomalies don’t feel like anything, but he feels like if he reached out to touch this one, it wouldn’t nick him on sharp edges, but instead be both rough and smooth to the touch at the same time. It’s blue shot through white, and it’s  _ bizarre _ .

Danny stares.at the way this one circles and pulses. All anomalies, if one listens the right way, breathe, but this one certainly does so more than most, inhaling and exhaling, but not pulsing like a closing anomaly would.

There’s a flicker of movement in the corner of his eye. Danny turns, and finds an EMD pointed in his face.

The holder of said EMD is clearly  _ not _ Becker, who has been immobilized. No, instead, it’s… Helen. Very dead Helen.

“Stop wearing his face,” she growls, “We both know Danny Quinn is on the  _ other _ side of this anomaly.”

Danny blinks. This might be weirder than he’d been expecting, so he says the only thing that pops to his head when someone asks him to stop wearing  _ his own face _ , like it’s a skinsuit or something.

_ “Excuse me?” _

Fortunately, Becker comes to rapidly enough to hit Helen with the EMD. The scientist falls, ridiculous hat rolling right off of her head.

“Since when does Helen wear hats?” Becker asks, grabbing the woman’s arms. Danny frowns.

“Since when does Helen look  _ healthy _ ?”

* * *

Lester paces the floor of the Arc so quickly that he thinks he might wear a hole in the soles of his shoes. Quinn’s called it back in, and they don’t exactly have multiple detention cells, but they’ll make it work.

“I thought you said Helen Cutter was  _ dead _ ,” Lester says. Danny nods, and frowns.

“She recognized me, so it couldn’t have been an earlier version, and she was holding this,” he says, “And it looks like she has a reversed ARC logo on that windbreaker of hers.”

“This,” Lester says, “Is  _ bizarre. _ ”

Danny snorts. Helen pounds on the glass of the door, and glares at them, before narrowing her eyes, and looking between them. She seems to come to some sort of revelation, because she steps away from the glass, and back down to the table, before taking out what looks to be chalk, and beginning to write.

“Alright, that’s enough,” Becker says. Danny grabs his shoulder, and Becker whirls back around, eyes narrowed.

“It’s  _ Helen _ . It’s not right, to give her time to plot. You know that just as well as I do, Danny.”

There’s a hint of desperation in his voice, the needy thread that just screams  _ I need to do this _ .

Danny understands the need for closure just as well as anyone else- that’s why he joined the ARC, after all- but there’s something different about Helen, now. Maybe it’s just the hats and the healthy look to her face that’s throwing him off, or maybe he does genuinely see  _ something _ behind her eyes that she’d never had before- the same old violence, the same old bared fangs, but it feels like there’s something else burning below her skin, like she feels like it’s not just  _ her _ that’s been backed into a corner.

“I’ll take this,” Matt says, brushing past Danny. There’s something in  _ his _ eyes, too, something old and creeping, like Matt has seen his own grave, knows exactly when the beat of his heart will slow and shudder to a stop.

“Good,” Lester says, “You interrogate Helen, Danny will talk to Ethan.”

“Patrick,” Danny corrects mildly, and, for the first time in a long time, does as he’s told.

* * *

Matt is relieved, if he’s going to be honest. He'd thought he’d have to start from scratch, but then Helen had appeared through a frankly  _ bizarre  _ anomaly, and he might be able to actually get something out of this beyond more frustration. Because from what he's heard, Helen is most likely responsible for anything like this, and if she's here, she might be able to at least tell him something useful.

“Who are you?” Helen Cutter asks, leaning back in her chair. She doesn't look anything like the photos they have on the ARC’s watchlist. Her hair, funny enough, is the first thing he notices- in the photos, it's always choppy, brittle, messy, but her hair now shines with health where it hides in a ponytail under an expensive-looking Breton cap.

She's dressed differently than she is in the photos, too- the windbreaker looks like one Becker or Matt himself might wear on their off hours, and like Danny had said-

She wears an inversed ARC logo- white and yellow on blue- over one shoulder, small and likely hand-sewn.

Matt really doesn't know why she'd gone through such trouble.

“Matt Anderson,” he replies, “I'm sure you know why you're here.”

“I don't, actually,” Helen replies, eyes narrowed, “I was with my team, and an anomaly was acting stranger than usual, and I go to investigate. Next thing I know, two people I am  _ absolutely  _ sure are on my side of the anomaly  _ shoot me, _ ” she replies. She's calm, terrifyingly calm, but there's iron behind her words, like she’s used to having to dig them in deep and twist to get what she wants.

Matt isn't surprised. From what he’s heard of Helen, she fights hard, and she fights dirty.

“Are you absolutely certain about that?” he asks. Helen nods irritably.

“Now, would you excuse me? I'd like to get back to where I was, thank you very much. Today has been fascinating, but I'd rather go over theories with Nick than sit here in a cell.”

Matt’s eyebrows jump.

“Nick Cutter is  _ dead. _ You shot him. Over a year ago.”

Helen blinks, slowly.

“I am  _ very _ sure he was alive when he was ordering the lab techs around this morning. Are you sure we’re thinking of the same Nick?”

_ “Yes, _ ” Matt replies. He's starting to feel like there might actually be merit to this, which means either Helen’s gotten to him or he’s finally cracked, “I'll send in Lester, I can't do this right now?”

“You have Lester on active duty  _ at the ARC? _ He's still supposed to be in physical therapy,  _ and _ on medical leave,” Helen replies sharply in an admonishing tone.

“I assure you, I am the picture of health,” Lester cuts in, swinging the door open, “But I'm afraid you might not be.”

“I understand you likely think I am not in my right mind at the moment,” Helen replies, “But I assure you, I most certainly did  _ not _ kill my ex-husband. Not in  _ my _ timeline, anyways.”

Matt pauses, and turns before he exits the room. Lester narrows his eyes.

“What, exactly, are you suggesting?”

“This isn't the first time I've switched timelines,” Helen replies, “We assumed it's singular, based on a ripple effect, but it could be otherwise. It  _ was _ a strange anomaly, after all.”

“It was strange because you  _ did something to it,” _ Matt replies. Helen shrugs her shoulders.

“The locking devices on our side didn't  _ work. _ I doubt they'll work on your side, either. It's just something strange that's gone on. Maybe the effort to keep the timelines connected puts such a strain on the anomaly that it slows, or maybe it's like a star, and the blue means it's brighter, stronger. In which case, its likely the anomaly- and my only way to get home to my proper timeline- is going to be closing soon.”

“And how do you plan to show us you’re telling the truth?” Lester replies, easing back in his chair. Helen leans forwards in her own. There’s more life to this woman’s eyes than the one in the photos, Matt thinks. There’s a sunniness to her smiles, a lightness to her steps, and a kind of sharpness to her grin that comes only from well-worn camaraderie. Something strange is afoot, even if she isn’t telling the truth, and if she  _ is _ , if she’s  _ right, _ well-

That throws a great deal of things out of balance, because that means while Matt’s direct future in this timeline won’t exist if he’s successful, it will still exist in some timeline- maybe even dozens, hundreds, millions of timelines- and Matt might actually be hyperventilating, because he’s not sure he can actually feel anything right now, except for warm hands around his own, pulling him to a stand.

“It’s a little overwhelming, isn’t it?” she asks. There’s something alight in her eyes, still- concern, perhaps, maybe a smidgeon of protectiveness and a dash of empathy. All things that are whispered that Helen Cutter did not- does not- have, but Matt’s seen people without empathy before, and people who have been removed, and he thinks he knows where the switch may have been flipped.

“You are  _ definitely _ not our version of Helen,” Lester mutters to himself. Helen grins back at him, and pulls her cap lower on her head.

“It’ll be relatively easy to prove I’m right, by the way,” she says, “all I have to do is pop my head through and ask one of the duplicates to come to this side. You said Nick is dead in this timeline. Who’s not?”

“You also have access to cloning technology, I don’t know if we can trust that.”

“And you think I can make a clone with its own distinctive personality? The proof will be in the differences, now come on. Who’s not dead?”

“Connor and Abby are the only members of the original team that are still alive,” Matt interrupts, “Unless you count Lester, and most of us do.”

“Well, my timeline’s Lester would be a bit difficult, considering he’s arguing for funding and on crutches right now, but I think I could ask Connor to pop through. There’s also Danny.”

Matt raises his eyebrows, again. Lester sighs, and shrugs his shoulders.

“Show us this odd anomaly, I suppose,” he says, and ushers them on. Not-Helen, as Matt has decided to call her, jumps to the door, and is stopped by handcuffs clicking around her wrist.

“For insurance, you understand,” Lester replies, “We’re not going to have you running off, and causing havoc, if you are indeed our timeline’s version.”

Not-Helen glares, and pulls her cap down again. She’d clearly hoped she’d gotten through to Lester, either for scheme purposes or because it’s the truth. With how this is going, Matt genuinely doesn’t know. If Lester, who knew their timeline’s version of Helen well, is at least partially convinced, this probably means there’s some merit to the concept. As they waltz out of the holding cell, Becker narrows his eyes, and pulls Matt to the side.

“Don’t trust her,” he says.

“You’re coming with us,” Matt replies, “If she does anything she shouldn’t, you’ll be able to act in time.”

* * *

Becker stares at the anomaly. He's still in shock, even the second time around, at just how  _ different  _ this one is, with the swirling nexus that looks like a cross between an anomaly proper and a whirlpool turned on its side, swirling blues and whites and all colors in between mixing with one another, not like shattered stained glass, but perhaps instead like melting ice stained a million different shades of blue.

Helen (Matt’s suggested they call her Not-Helen for the moment, but Becker absolutely refuses) sticks her head- and nothing else- through the anomaly, and starts chatting animatedly with someone on the other side.

Becker takes a step back as he steps through.

The copy looks at Helen, back to Becker, and snorts, before breaking down into proper laughter.

“Two years of fighting dinosaurs, and  _ this _ is what breaks you?” Helen- Not-Helen, perhaps, because now that he's staring the truth in the face, he realizes that the others were right, that this Helen is calmer and warmer than her counterpart, less closed-off and misanthropic.

“I’ve-” Becker’s counterpart starts, before cutting himself off with a wheeze, “I've fought dinosaurs. I've fought creatures from the future. I fought an oil executive’s security personnel when you broke into his office and threatened him. But that’s  _ me _ right there. And Lester. Tell me, Professor,  _ what the hell _ am I supposed to do with that? What little mental cabinet am I supposed to file  _ that _ in so it won't keep me up at night?”

“The same one I file Claudia Brown in, Hilary, do try to keep up.”

Becker thinks he might need to do some mental cabinet-filing himself. He sits down on the cold floor, and stares at the polished stone like it might swallow him whole and he doesn't have to think about it.

“Becker?” Matt asks, grabbing his shoulder. Becker looks up at him. He knows he probably looks bizarre, with wild eyes and a half-mad expression, but he honestly doesn't care.

There are boots- the sound of them, at least- outside. Becker and Mart and Lester turn to see Ethan- Patrick- whatever his name is- and Emily with him, an EMD pressed up against her. Not-Becker goes to his own weapon, while Not-Helen goes to hers, doesn't find it, and curses, loudly, before she narrows her eyes at Matt.

“Oh, I remember  _ you _ ,” she says, “You joined the field team under Stephen’s group not that long ago. You had the idea for us to start using these.”

She points at the not very altered EMD that Not-Becker holds. Patrick- Ethan-  _ damnit _ \- looks between the Beckers with a confused expression.

“Oh, you don't want to go through this one,” Not-Becker says with a click of his tongue, “Not your timeline. Could be duplicates, running around.”

“You're  _ lying _ ,” Patrick replies, and moves to fire a shot at the next thing that comes through the anomaly, which happens to be Not-Abby. It all happens in a flash of movement, when he attempts- Not-Helen rushes forwards, and pins him to the ground before any of the rest of them can react- including another newcomer, a man Lester seems to recognize as Stephen Hart.

Becker realizes, in that moment, that this really  _ is _ some form of Helen Cutter. She moves like a carnivore, and roars like one, too, and while she may not be a quiet snake or leopard like their version is-

Helen Cutter, in all of her forms, is deadly like nothing else.

“I don't think that’s a very wise course of action, you know,” she purrs, showing teeth, “The people behind me are  _ my _ people, and I'm not particularly keen on seeing them hurt. Do you know what I do, to anyone who threatens them?”

“You get Johnson and Lester to hogtie them in enough legal red tape that they can't step outside their own house in the next ten years or the police will be called,” Not-Stephen replies, “No, it's Johnson who gets people disappeared, not you.”

“Stephen,” Not-Helen says, “Don't undermine my intimidation when I'm working on neutralizing a threat.”

She fires an EMD shot into Patrick’s chest for good measure, before turning back to Becker’s actual colleagues.

“This was fun, but we’ll try to set up locking devices on both sides, it would be  _ terribly _ confusing if anyone wandered through on accident. Good luck with him, by the way,” she says, indicating Patrick, before turning back to her own, “You know, if he looks the same on our side of things, we could run facial recognition, see if anything sticks.”

She walks through the anomaly last. It turns into a blown glass orb before long, swirling and vibrant. Becker skins his fingers across it gently.

It hums, almost like it's alive.

* * *

“Why did you do that?” Helen asks as they step away from the locked anomaly, “Lie to them, I mean.”

Stephen knows well enough that Helen gets  _ violent _ when it's needed. He indicates the blown glass effect of the anomaly next to them, swirling blue and white and clear.

“They were afraid of you,” he says in reply, “And when people are afraid, they get violent, too. Other Becker had an itchy trigger finger every time he saw your face. What did your alter do, you think, to make them so nervous?”

Helen knows exactly what she’d done, in a time that's not her own. She'd seen it in their eyes, when they met hers.

“Something terrible, I'm sure,” she replies, and adjusts her cap, “Now, let’s go see if Christine and Lester have managed to threaten the Minister into raising our budget, shall we?”

Stephen snorts.

“They'll be in there for at least another few hours, you know that perfectly well. Do you have any other ideas?”

Danny waves, from where he’s standing by the locking device. Helen narrows her eyes.

“Actually,” she says, scrolling to the new photograph on her phone, “I’ll have to ask her, but I think I know who’s been hunting that Victorian stowaway of ours.”

**Author's Note:**

> okay so: this fic will move down the line later on once I bring the Hattie AU forth in proper, but now it's a *thing,* and I *am* working on the Hattie AU proper. probably a season-by-season thing.


End file.
